Acceptance
by LilyBolt
Summary: When a person experiences a great loss they go through the five stages of grief... A oneshot from Sam's POV during his first month at Stanford. Not a slash fiction.


**Author's Note: When Sam first went to Stanford, he really felt Dean's absence from his life. And w****hen a person mourns the loss of a loved one, they go through the five stages of grief. **

* * *

**Denial**

The first week Sam is at Stanford he ignores the stubborn silence coming from his cell phone. He goes to his classes each day, checking the phone every couple of hours and finding no new calls, messages, or texts. He shrugs it off as nothing.

And when he comes home each night and checks his phone to discover the same empty "missed calls" list, he simply sets the phone on his nightstand and goes to bed. It isn't a big deal.

Because he definitely isn't checking his phone at least ten times a day in the secret hope that his big brother has called him just because he doesn't want to lose touch any more than Sam does… Sam doesn't need that reassurance. Nope.

There is no way the silence is bothering him. Worrying him. Hurting.

* * *

**Anger**

The second week at Stanford marks a big change in Sam's attitude. His classes are going well, He's making plenty of new friends, and he certainly doesn't feel obligated to be upset by the apparent absence of his brother's interest in communication.

If Dean wants to play the silent game, he can damn well do as he pleases. And what the heck is his problem anyway?

Hadn't he seen the way their dad had yelled at Sam? Did he not care that John had basically ripped Sam up one side and down the other with cutting, judgmental words?

And hadn't Sam made it obvious over the years that the day was coming when he would leave for school? All those nights staying up late for his studies… Did Dean think that had all been for fun? Was his brother really so oblivious that he never saw this coming?

No, Dean has to have known. He just clearly doesn't care. The jerk must be thinking only of himself and what he wants for a future. Sam's needs always come first, except when they don't. Except when what Dean wants came first. When Dean wants Sam to stay locked away with him.

Well Sam is free now and he doesn't regret a damn thing. Dean can stay silent forever if he wants to. Besides, what eighteen year old guy still needs a big brother anyway?

* * *

**Bargaining**

"Damn it! It's a phone call Dean. It's won't kill you." Sam lays in his bed, spending another night staring at his cell and willing it to ring.

It has been a rough week, to say the least. Week three of school began and suddenly his work load had doubled. Term paper preparation began, quizzes were given, and the nightly reading assignments grew in both length and tedious nature.

Sam would do just about anything for a conversation with Dean at this point. His brother would know just what to say to cheer him up. Or at the very least, Dean would know how to distract him from his troubles.

Dean, with his stupid lame jokes and his endless compassion for Sam when he was stressed about anything...

"Damn it!" Sam repeats as he finally admits defeat for the night and tosses his phone onto the nightstand before rolling over to try and get some sleep. "Just one little phone call dude. That's all I'm asking…" he mumbles before succumbing to unconsciousness.

* * *

**Depression**

Near the end of the first month since arriving at Stanford, things are at an all-time low for Sam. His first round of midterms are due to begin in a few days, and his sleep schedule is a mess because of it. Not to mention he still hasn't heard a peep from his brother.

If Sam had a picture of Dean with him he'd probably be staring at it right now. But he doesn't even have that. He hadn't had much time to pack before he left, and the few photos he owns of himself and Dean are now sitting somewhere in the trunk of the Impala. They're in the safest place on Earth, but that haven has never felt father away.

Instead, Sam sits on the edge of his bed holding his cell phone. It's become somewhat of a habit as of late. He continues to stare at the little plastic and metal box. It takes everything in him not to dial the number on his own. Not to just call Dean himself because he feels like he has never missed someone more in his whole life. But if Dean hasn't called him by this point, then Sam fears for the worst.

His brother doesn't want to call him at all. And Sam feels the guilt wash over him because he knows that this is his fault, not Dean's. The "should haves" swirl around in his head, accusatory and aggressive.

He should've have warned Dean about Stanford so it didn't feel like a slap in the face when the time came.

He should've told Dean he wanted to stay in touch.

He should have given his brother a proper good-bye. A thank-you. A hug. Anything.

He should have called him within the first week. The first day. The moment he arrived on campus.

He should feel better than he does right now. After all, this is what he always wanted. This freedom he now has. But it isn't the same without his brother to share it with.

He should have let Dean know how much he'd miss him…

* * *

**Acceptance**

Sam sits alone in his dorm, moving his closed cell phone around in one hand, thinking. He has survived the dreaded midterms. In fact, he's survived the whole first month of college and done pretty well too. All things considered…It being his first semester of college, let alone at an Ivy League school, and it being his first month on his own… His straight A's this far are definitely something to be proud of.

It has been a month since he's seen or heard from his brother. A month of no missed calls and a month of missing his brother with everything in him.

One whole month.

Sam sets the phone down on the nightstand. It's time to accept the consequences of his actions. The things he did and said…The things he never said but should have… They led him to this place. Right to this desk where he now sits staring at a phone with no missed calls. No voicemails from his big brother, asking how things are, or even just letting him know he's not dead. Sam takes a deep breath to push those fears away.

The time has come to face the facts, because he owes it to Dean…

This time it's on him to reach out. It has been from the start.

So Sam picks up his cell phone and flips it open, entering a number he hasn't dialed in over thirty days. The phone rings only once before suddenly there's a voice. It sounds healthy. Relieved. A little worried. It sounds _Dean_.

"Sammy?" It asks. And with that one little word all is right in the world once more. Because that word has meant a thousand different things over the course of Sam's lifetime. Safety, teasing, compassion… But tonight, it means acceptance.

"Yeah Dean it's me. It's good to hear your voice man."

* * *

**Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! This was just for fun, but I would still very much appreciate your feedback. Please do leave a review! :D **


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